Throw Iggy from the Train
by BarracudaHeart
Summary: Following a series of events, and a missed train, rival countries England and Ireland are stuck journeying with each other to reach Antwerp, Belgium.  Can they tolerate each other long enough to get through? England/Ireland UK/I.republic
1. Chapter 1

**This is a semi-romance fanfic I'm making for England and Ireland (not an incest pairing). I'm using my characters the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. They're siblings. Republic is female, and Northern (or North for short) is male, and younger. I used them in my drabble collection "Shamrocks with Tea".**

**Historically inaccurate, for those who are wondering. So don't expect a history lesson in here. Some facts, but kind of jumbled.**

**Human names for them are:**

**Ireland: Mallory Quinn**

**Northern Ireland: Colin Molony**

**It's pretty silly, so don't expect much sex or lemon or yaoi or whatever codenames. I'll update every so often, as long as people review it. **

**And because I love Russia so much, he's gonna be in this story. :)**

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><p>England considered himself a gentleman, and to be one, he needed to have standards. He was to be mature, and a leader. Polite and respectful. Punctual, and logical. He was well liked, and admired for these traits of his, and for keeping them. He remained calm during most issues, and crisis, but there were the points where he failed to keep his standards. These points were usually when his country was in imminent danger, he was drunk, or France was being a pervert. Because, even as a gentleman, England was a natural cynic. Having been a pirate, he had the taste of a salty language in his mouth still. He could stab with a tongue as sharp as his, being quite a firey fellow at times.<p>

One of the biggest credos that he followed was that he was to never hurt or threaten a woman. Women were elegant and delicate, and he was not to harm them, or even fight them. Or even START fights. And this rule, he was able to follow fine.

Except in the case of Ireland.

The country that was now free from the UK had never failed to aggravate him. She seemed to always know just which buttons to press, and she always seemed to be pushing them all down at the same time. Whenever they had crossed paths, England was left in a foul mood.

Although he couldn't really put her at total fault. She was still pretty angry from their last war together. She had finally gained her independence. But she had to give her little brother to the care of England, since he had wanted to remain in the United Kingdom, thus making her triumph rather bittersweet. Northern Ireland, or as he liked to be called 'North', who was as gentle as the sheep he tended in his fields, had no wish to leave the United Kingdom with his big sister, leaving her rather bitter. He stayed with England after that war, considering England his older caretaker, but never his brother, against the belief of all the other nations(who thought they were brothers). This acknowledgement hurt England somewhat, having wanted a little brother once more who wouldn't leave him. He considered North his little brother still, but he and Ireland were never related.

Every time he and Ireland were together, it was either him or her, who was instigating a feud between them, and leaving them both in a rotten mood. They were like cats and dogs. He didn't look forward to having to talk with her much.

Which is why he groaned in annoyance when he learned they were to share a train compartment on the journey to a conference in Antwerp. It was France's dumbass idea to have taken a train to the conference, instead of a plane, complaining of air fare issues, and the fact he'd be lonely. He had also thought of making the trip a sort of Tour de France to Belgium. So most of the European nations had decided to take the train, since it was also cheaper than a plane.

Ireland wasn't so pleased either. She liked train rides, since she got airsick easily, but she didn't want to be sitting near England. For starters, his eyebrows to her looked like huge moldy caterpillars. Why couldn't he pluck them like she did to hers (which were naturally just as thick as his), and look a little more tolerable? He was always criticizing her habits when taking care of children. She was a doctor, for goodness sakes, and she knew how to take care of children. Couldn't he just lay off?

And third, she just couldn't let go of how he had hurt her in the past. The lies, the betrayals...the pain. She just couldn't drop them from her mind. How could she? Her people could have all died because of him, and she still didn't forgive him for any of it. Sure she had been more sociable when they went to bars, but she simply blew him off at meetings or parties. He wasn't worth talking to then.

And this trip was going to be far more difficult for the both of them.

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><p>It all started the morning that the train would be leaving. It would be starting in Paris where the station was (lucky for the frog) then passing through the French countryside until it reached Belgium.<p>

Ireland had taken a ferry to the mainland, and was waiting at the train station. She had been in a foul mood all that morning, after having seen her calendar. Oh god, the date today was something she just wanted to forget. It made her enraged to have to remember it every year, since it seemed to laugh at her with bittersweet memories. She hoped England was aware that she would not be pleased with him, under the circumstances.

England was still drowsy from the early wake up, and was among the other European nations that were clustered together for the train. He was stopped by Northern Ireland, who greeted him a kindly hello.

He yawned, "Oh, um, good morning to you too. Did you wake up early too?"

"_Baa_, yeh, I had to. I usually get up at five to tend me sheep, but I got up two hours early, to feed t'em before I left."

England was rather surprised at how hardy a worker North was, to wake up so early every morning. But then again, both the Irish siblings were naturally good farmers, and they always had some good crops, so such a demanding schedule was probably well worth it.

"Well, anyway, who are you sitting with on the train?"

"I don't know yet, I have yet to look at the seating char-"

"Privet comrade~!" sung a childish voice from behind the two countries. They could feel a tall presence looming over them, and they turned around to see the tall nation from the north, Russia, who looked as excited as a kid with toys, holding his train ticket.

"Oh, um, hello Russia..." said both the men, not looking up, trying to avoid eye contact. Russia was not the first nation that they'd think of talking to.

"Northern Ireland is excited da? We get to be train buddies!"

"_Baa,_ what?" perked up the red haired nation. He'd be stuck for at least five hours in a train compartment with the most feared nation (besides Sweden)?

"It'll be fun, da? Perhaps we can become friends!"

Russia then put a hand on the shaking Northern Ireland's shoulder, and said in a way that made the Irish man shiver like Latvia, "Good, good friends."

"Ah, well, dasvidania! I need to go see who my precious Toris has been seated next to. And I need to warn them not to EVER try and steal him or Yao-Yao from me!"

He turned and left, leaving England and poor North, who was shaking like the last fall leaf, where they were standing.

England patted the younger's shoulder, "Don't worry Colin. I've survived sitting next to him in far more desperate times. It won't be that bad."

North gulped, trying to calm himself. He then looked around, "Say, have ye seen me sister?"

"Mallory? No, I didn't see her when I was coming into the station so she might be-"

"Oh DERE you are Colin!" cheered a girl's voice with a heavy Irish accent. "I've been looking for ye evr'ywhere me boyo!"

"Eh, hello sis'" breathed North who was getting squeezed in a bearhug by his big sister.

"Sorry ye hafta be sittin' with the Russian feller. He's a pain in de butt, mind ye. Just don't make any eye contact alright den?"

"Yeh, okay Mal." he smiled.

She then turned and saw England. She frowned, "Yeh, I'll be sure to do te same with me pairing."

England rolled his eyes, "Must you make a negative comment so early?"

She scowled angrily, with an almost burning rage that England could see and was concerned about. They'd usually be bickering, but it would never begin or end with Ireland having such a glazed anger in her expression towards him. Unless she was drunk. Which is what England would first assume for this issue.

North piped up, "Well, um, since we have some time before the train leaves would ye guys wanna get some coffee or tea or something at the station's cafe?"

They both nodded, and then Ireland shot a glare at England, which he could see from the corner of his eye, and shot back with an annoyed frown of his own. She clearly did not want him there, but Northern Ireland saw this expression, and rolled his eyes, silently asking his sister to grin and bear it. He gave a sighing 'baa' when she rolled her shoulders back, showing her reluctancy to agree. But she did. But barely.

It was not going to get much better, though Northern Ireland had tried to keep the calm, the English dog of a man and Irish cat of a woman were far from cutting the issue off.

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><p><strong>Read and review or I'm turning this into a psychotic thriller fic entirely about North being a stalkerpedophile and making out (and making babies) with Russia. With a hentai Finland and Sweden. I do not lie, dear children.**

**Oh yeah, whoever understands the reference in the title of this story, I love you. :D**

**I'll update soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The next update might be a bit, due to writer's block, and artistic inspiration. Ah well, enjoy, blokes!**

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><p>They sat at a little patio table near the cafe, so they could keep track of the train schedule on the kiosk nearby. As England and Northern Ireland enjoyed their tea, and were in pleasant conversation, Ireland, still in a sour mood, smirked, and snuck a little whiskey into her tea. She'd much rather be drunk and sour than sober and not. Because when she was drunk, she wasn't afraid to speak her mind. Unfortunately, her tolerance to alcohol was rather high, so a little shot wasn't really going to help.<p>

Northern Ireland then tried to make small talk, hoping to ease the tension that was floating around the table via his sister. "So, _baa_, how our yer countries doin' right now fellas?"

Ireland said with a bit of a proud air, "We be doin' fine, and me economy ain't flounderin' just yet. The imports from yer country are pretty impressive dere."

England raised an eyebrow, "Um, Ireland, just a slight correction, but the goods you recieved from North are all from what I exported to Belfast."

She gave a bored look, "Hm, kinda hard to believe dere. Ye don't seem like someone with te best goods."

He frowned, "Well, I am just fine thank you."

She then smiled, and patted her brother on the back, "Well good news is North and I have some good trade goin' on anyways."

"_Baa_, I've been able to profit off some of te wool I've been selling to her, and she's been able to sell a bunch of her potatoes."

"See, _Arthur_, we're able to get by on our own."

"Well of course, you two are right next to each other. I wouldn't think that your economy is bad unless one of you wasn't doing your job. Hopefully you are."

_I do my job perfectly fine asshole._ Ireland thought, assuming he was accusing her of being lazy. Deciding to get a little even, she smirked, "Well, we acknowledge each other as family which is a plus on our part." she sneered.

England frowned, having been hit in a sensitive subject. He knew she was talking about America, and how he had declared independence from him. He couldn't stop seeing him as his little brother, but America didn't consider him family again after that day...

Having had enough of Ireland aggravating him, he got up and said, "I think I'll go sit somewhere else. Sorry North."

Northern Ireland, who was a little offset by his sister's rudeness that morning, asked annoyed, "Sis, what's te matter with ye! Why are ye pickin' on England, _baa_?"

She said, angrily, "Well, he deserved it!"

"For what? He's practically only said hi to ye, and yer already arguin', and bullyin' te poor boyo!"

"He doesn't deserve any good wills from me dis mornin', especially since he prolly damn well knows why! And you should too!"

He raised an eyebrow, "_Baa_, what?"

She froze. "Y-ye don't really know?" she asked, a bit taken back.

He shook his head slightly, a bit nervous. She frowned angrily, "Y-ye traitor ye! Me own brother doesn't even remember!" she shouted to her brother, then herself. She slammed her teacup on the table, and crossed her arms angrily, blowing a strand of red hair out of her face with an annoyed huff.

"W-wait what are ye even talking about?"

She waved him off, "Forget I even mentioned it. You'd just then side with te Brit if I told you." she grumbled.

Slightly confused by the comment, North quietly protested, "_Baa_...but Mallory I-"

"Shut up Colin." she grouched, which left her little brother with a hurt expression, getting up to leave, leaving the shaggy haired nation sadly sitting alone at the table, upset and confused.

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><p>When England got to his compartment on the train, he slid the door open, only to see his less than excited compartment partner reclined in her chair, stretching her legs across onto England's seat. He looked down, frowning at his seat being occupied by her boots. She looked up casually, but then paid no heed to him. He stood there waiting, growing increasedly annoyed. He tapped her leg with his knee. She looked up, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, did ye want to use dis chair?"<p>

"YES, I did."

She sighed as if she were doing him a huge favor, and brought her legs down, allowing him to sit. He sat down, and looked at the compartment wall.

"Blast it, emergency exits. Assuming the quality of this hunk of metal, it'll pop out or something. I wouldn't be surprised if they all did."

Ireland had an indignant face, "What?"

"Bollocks, never mind it. Excuse me for trying to be polite and start a conversation."

She bit her lip, glaring vehemently at him. She didn't stop staring at him until he looked up at her and asked, "Do you mind?"

She heard him mutter, "Bloody git." , and she crossed her arms, and scowled, looking down at the floor. England simply slouched back, annoyed, looking out the window.

Soon enough, the train was leaving the station. After about ten minutes, it made a stop at a nearby station, and continued onward.

The scenery, England would have usually enjoyed, but in the sour mood he was facing, he was far from enjoying it. He wanted to know why Ireland was so angry with him. At first he tried to ignore it, but eventually it became so irritating with the awkward, bitter silence between them that when the train was slowing to a stop in Tours, he growled, "Alright wench! I give!"

She looked up, "What in te Malley ye talkin' about?"

"You bloody know what I'm talking about! Why in the name of the Queen are you so steamed with me today? Did I OFFEND your precious potatoes or something? What?"

She frowned angrily, still not understanding how he kept forgetting.

"I'll give ye t'ree words to tell ye why: May. Third. 1921!" She shouted the last word so angrily, it plastered Arthur to his seat. The train having stopped, she took her bag, and got up out of her seat.

"Hey, where are you going, the train's gonna-"

"I don't care!" she shouted, and left the compartment, and off the train. She would board back on...she just needed a breather.

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><p>England gave an annoyed sigh. This was anniversary of the day that Ireland had broken off from the United Kingdom, and gained her independence. But that was also the day she had to give up taking care of Northern Ireland who was just a little one then. She had been happy to gain her long awaited independence, but she was upset about losing her brother. England was often sympathetic that she missed him, but he was annoyed that whenever that day came around, she'd get mad at him, claiming he stole her little brother. The lady could have stayed in the UK, with North, but she left, and she got a fair trade in it he thought. Why couldn't she just be grateful for what she earned in the end, and not what she lost? And why was she so mad at him? It was her own damn fault.<p>

And even though he didn't know it, Ireland knew this too, but she just didn't want to believe or admit it.

Sighing, deciding to coax her back onto the train, England got up and left. Nobody else had left their compartments or knew that England and Ireland did.

When he got off, he found Ireland sitting on a bench near the outside ticket booth. Her legs were drawn up, and she looked pretty unhappy.

Without a word, England sat next to her. "Now are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"No. I'm havin' a horrible day already, and I don't need ye to make it worse."

He rolled his eyes annoyed, "And WHY do you blame me for this?"

"Ye wouldn't understand, ye dumbass."

He frowned, "What? You don't have the heart to blame North for choosing to stay in the UK, or you just don't want to blame your own ruddy self?"

She got off the bench and walked, but England followed her, and he tried to muster up the best sympathy he could for her.

"Look, I know you're upset, it's tough, and I know what it's like, but just because I-"

He was interrupted by a train whistle. He paled.

"Oh bollocks! We're gonna miss the train!"

Ireland shrieked, and they both made a mad dash for the train. It was already pulling away. They both sprinted faster, aiming to get on the back railing. They leaped onto the tracks, running, and caught up, but as England was able to grab on, Ireland tripped on a railpiece and fell face flat. She slowly got up, her nose hurting, but it was clear she wouldn't catch the train in time if she lingered longer. Realizing he couldn't leave her stuck on the tracks, he gave an exasperated sigh, and got off, stumbling onto the tracks, and made his way over to her, sprinting. He grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her, despite her protests, but by the time they had reached full speed, the train was already speeding off, leaving them both standing on the train tracks.

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><p><strong>[insert threat that is beyond ridiculous unless they read and review]<strong>

**Ireland can be kind of a grouch. Poor North.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This takes place during and after the events of Chapter 2, in the view of Northern Ireland**

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><p><strong>ROUGHLY AROUND THE SAME TIME<strong>

Northern Ireland slumped in his seat, still sadly confused why his sister was so angry with him. Whatever it was, he'd tell her he was sorry, but he didn't know what was wrong in the first place. Why had she called him a traitor? How had he betrayed her? He wished that he could figure out what and why.

As he sat, despondent, Russia went in, and sat down in his chair, oblivious to anything wrong. "Hello comrade!"

North shot up, nervous, "BAA! Oh um, hello..."

"I haven't been on a train in ages! It's so fun to ride in them, especially when you have other people. Sometimes, I like to stick my head out the window, to feel the wind on my face! The last time I rode a train, Latvia was with me, and since he was so short, I held him out the window, hoping the fresh air would make him grow better. But he didn't hold on tight enough, and he made me drop him. North, you're a strong one, da?"

Nodding, North sank in his chair, trying not to look at the eerie face of Russia, terrified of being tossed out the train window. He gulped and grabbed his pocket journal from his trenchcoat and started to write an entry, hoping he'd be able to make himself busy enough for Russia not to bother him. Very forgetful of dates, Northern Ireland asked nervously, "Ehm, Mr. Russia, would you happen to know te date?"

"May 21st."

Northern Ireland realized what he had been forgetting, and wanted to smack himself.

"_Baa_, I'll be darned! It be me birthday today, and I forgot!"

"Oh really? You forgot your own birthday, da?"

"_Baa_, I've been so busy lately, I forgot what day was coming up!"

"Well, happy birthday comrade!" said Russia, genuinely happy, for once. He was like a kid, excited for special days.

North then bit his tongue, his spirit starting to sink. He now had a good idea of why Ireland might have been so angry this morning. Not only was today his birthday, but it was near a century ago, when they had separated, and she left the United Kingdom. He was very upset that she decided to leave, since he didn't have the choice to leave with her or not, but as he had gotten older, he had grown to like the UK, and had no wish to leave it. She was always grumpy when reminded of it.

He bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed that she still wouldn't let it go. Why was she blaming England for all of this, and not him? He was the one who didn't leave with her, so she should be yelling at him if anyone. And it was a long time ago anyway, and he was a grown up country now. He wasn't rejoining with his sister, and she would just have to accept it.

He simply sat in his seat, in downwardly spirits as the train pulled from the station, and sped away. He took his journal, trying to keep himself busy, but ended up simply doodling scribbly sheep on the page, digging his pen into the paper with each stroke. As gentle as he could be, he was best to be avoided when angry, as his anger could grow to vicious heights. When he got tired of scribbling angrily on the paper, he tucked the journal in his pocket, and could feel the train move again as it left a station, by which the intercom had announced was Tours, France. The train continued on, for about twenty more minutes.

As North's mood soured, Russia could see the expression of irritation and turmoil on his partner's face. Curious, like a child, he poked the Irish man with the toe of his boot. There was no response, so he poked a little harder. Northern Ireland simply turned in his seat, tired and growing rather annoyed with his train partner, forgetting how threatening he could be. When Russia heard an annoyed sigh from the man, he giggled mischeviously and reaching across the way, poked him in the arm with his finger, multiple times. Having had enough, North snapped, and grabbed Russia's finger with a surprising strength, glaring, "Knock it off, ye bod." He usually would never insult anyone, but with the foul mood he was in, he didn't give a shit who he was talking to.

Russia, surprised at the red haired man's reaction, was trying to think of options as what to do. When, a split second later, the first choice came to his mind, he gave a cold, creepy face to the Irishman. He snarled, in a frightening voice, "Let go of me comrade."

Northern Ireland shot his hand back, realizing his terrible mistake, and paled, frightened out of his mind. Russia gave a sinister grin, "You're obviously a younger country, as you seem rather foppish and naive, da?"

Russia stood up, in the moving train, looming over Northern Ireland. "Da. You barely look older than my Latvia, you naive, foolish boy. Looks like I need to teach you a very important lesson."

North shivered in his chair, and said quickly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend ye! I'm just having a terrible da-"

"No excuses, comrade. It's far too late now, and I now have to punish you." said Russia darkly, and he grabbed North by the collar with one hand, lifting him up to eye level. His icy violet eyes met with the younger country's frightened greens.

Northern Ireland screamed, "BAAA! HELP!" as he stared into the frightening face that was the angered Russia, and he could hear the tall man chant 'Kol kol kol kol kol...'. He squirmed fearfully, and horrfied, as he felt a cold, dry hand move under his trenchcoat and into his shirt.

But as fate would have it, the train, while on a rocky incline near a river, had met with a broken, frayed piece of metal on the track, and caused it to jolt off the track momentarily then back on, and tilt violently to the sides for a few moments, which had popped open a few of the emergency exits. Luckily nobody on the train then was near an emergency exit, and didn't fall out. The force of the accident caused Russia to fall off balance, and let go of North. They both fell to the floor, and plastered themselves to the ground, shocked by the force, and remained on the ground until the train had slowed to an emergency stop about a hundred feet farther.

Russia was the first to move, "Euh? What was that?"

Sputtering, Northern Ireland slowly tried to get up, but found it better to stay down in the case of Russia, "_Baa_, I don't know...but it was really wild if it knocked ye over..."

Slowly getting up, Russia grabbed Northern Ireland by the collar, making the Irishman squeak in fear, but the latter was surprised when Russia didn't continue with his 'punishment' and had just set the shaggy red haired nation on his feet, dusting off his shoulders.

"If you stay on the ground too long comrade, you'll get your nice coat all dirty. You don't want that, da?"

North tried to find the words to answer, but simply gave a sigh. If Russia was like this normally, he was afraid to see what everyone else had feared about him.

When they left their train compartment, they saw everyone else had left their compartments, and were walking around the train's corridor, confused, and bewildered.

Russia looked around, hoping to find his sisters, and when he saw Ukraine, he gave a sigh of relief. He was a bit more fearful than relieved when Belarus came around.

France looked around, and wiped his brow. "Bon, it looks like everyone is still here and kicking. Shall we continue?"

Northern Ireland looked around the corridor, and exclaimed, "Hey! W-where's my sister? Has anyone seen Mallory?"

Everyone began to look around the corridor with their eyes, but none of them saw the red haired woman.

Northern Ireland bit his tongue, nervous, "Y-ye haven't seen her? Nobody? _Baa_! Well, help me find her den at least!"

France added, "Come to think of it, has anyone seen Angleterre? Wasn't he with Ireland?"

Everyone shook their head. They hadn't seen either of them since they had all boarded the train about forty minutes ago.

France looked over to the compartment where the two missing nations had been seated when he last saw them. The door was closed. France and Northern Ireland went over to the door and opened it.

Northern Ireland could feel his heart skip a beat then sink when he saw that the wall facing the outside in their compartment had popped open, leaving the river outside accessible. Neither nation was in their seat. With the violent rocking of the train, could they have...?

"Sacre bleu! The damn emergency exit popped open!"

North's throat began to tighten, and tears threatened to leave his eyes, and they burned.

"W-where are dey? Where's my sister?"

France couldn't answer, at loss of words. The only explanation at this point could be that when the exit had opened, England and Ireland fell out, into the river. Nobody saw either nation leave the train at any time.

When France couldn't answer his question, North grabbed France by his coat, and asked, "Where? Where is she?"

France uttered, "Je ne sais pas Colin...je ne sais pas*..."

North didn't understand what that meant, but with the tone Francis used, he feared the worst. He panicked, and poking his head out the gaping hole in the wall of the train, he shouted, "MALLORY! MAL? MAL? ARTHUR?"

All that answered was the gurgling and rushing of the water in the river.

"S-SIS? SISSY? MR. ENGLAND?"

He called out their names a little longer, the tears starting to fall, but barely. Not wanting to give up, he tried tear off his coat quickly, but France asked him, "Monsieur! What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna jump in dere and find tem!"

"No, we can't lose anyone else right now!" protested France, who pulled North back.

"B-but we have to find tem! Dey're out dere, and dey're looking for us!" cried the poor Irishman, who struggled to go back and find his sister and caretaker.

France pulled him out of the compartment, and barricaded the door. Northern Ireland backed away, and covered his eyes with his coat sleeve, trying to stop himself from crying.

"Monsieur, this train has to continue to Antwerp soon, but I promise you, we'll have some of the nations here stay behind to find them. I'm not so sure about you staying. It might be too emotionally exhausting for you."

Russia, who had been behind them the whole time, said with some childish optimism, "Da, we'll find them comrade! Dead or alive!"

Ukraine lightly scolded her brother, who corrected himself to please his sister, "D-ah, I mean, alive!"

But Northern Ireland wasn't listening to any of them. He was wiping his eyes which kept producing tears with his sleeve, and one of his hands was buried into his coat pocket, where he held a small sheep doll his sister had made for him when he was little. He had always kept it there to keep her wherever he went.

As he continued to cry, afraid that his beloved friends were gone, Switzerland, Russia, Belarus (because Russia was there), Lithuania (because Belarus was there), and Poland (because the search would be like, totally fun with Lithuania) had volunteered to go out and search the area for England and Ireland. Northern Ireland piped up, trying to hide his tears, "_B-baaaah_... I want to search for tem too. Ireland's me sister, and England took care of me..."

"Very well."

As they got off the train, and watched it leave, they walked back to where the train had approximately had its accident, the whole time, Northern Ireland, realizing nobody was watching him (or so he thought), let his tears fall. He was sorry that he had been mad at his sister in the train, and he was sorry that he hadn't released the tension between her and England, and he prayed that they were alright. He tried to swallow a audible sob, but it caught in his throat, making him sound miserable.

He was surprised by a hand patting him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry North. They probably got out, since I know they're both strong swimmers. They're waiting for us near the riverbanks I bet, da?"

Tearstained, Northern Ireland gave an "Mmhm." nodding his head sadly, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He was too upset now to be afraid of Russia.

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><p><strong>I know absolutely nothing about train accidents, and this one makes no sense, I'm sorry. Just go with it, ok?<strong>

**Northern Ireland isn't a dick, don't worry. He's a sweet guy, just a little annoyed. Creeper Russia FTW. And no, /Russia is not gonna be a pairing (unless people have a dirty mind).**

**Next chapter will deal with England and Ireland.**

**Read and Review or this is becoming a North/Train yaoi fic.**

**Je ne sais pas: I don't know**


	4. Chapter 4

**England and Ireland roughness. Yeah yeah yeah.**

**Sorry, really tired, and my stitches got out today. Wanna go to bed...**

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><p>England and Ireland both stood on the tracks, silently, looking out in the direction the train went, eyes following the moving silver mass as it moved farther away, and stared until they could no longer see the train at all.<p>

England dropped to his knees, giving a growl. He thrust his hands to the ground, and tore at the gravel on the train tracks, and muttered vicious swear words under his breath. He threw the gravel in random directions. When one handful nearly hit Ireland, she jumped back, and gave a frown. She then walked right behind the Englishman, and gave a swift kick to his bottom. He toppled over with a shriek, and his face kissed the dirt. When he got up, he turned to face Ireland, and his face crumpled into a furious glare. He growled, "YOU! YOU did this! If you had just stayed on the bloody train, then we'd have never gotten into this mess!"

Ireland was fuming, angrily, arms crossed. She didn't have anything to say to that, and just waited for the man to continue.

"I don't even know what your problem is with me! What, so your damn brother grew up! Is that your damn problem? Well guess what you nutter? HE'S A COUNTRY NOW! He's grown up, and you're blaming ME? You're the one who left, and you knew right from the start, yes RIGHT from the bloody start that you couldn't keep him! But you just blame me! Well, you're either too soft on the bloke to be mad at him, or too cowardly to blame your own damn self! I don't see why you have to be such an ass to me all the time when I've been perfectly nice to you! Crazy bitch!" he spat angrily, and storming off the tracks.

As he got off the tracks, he felt someone grab him from behind, and pull him to the ground. Ireland was gripping at his collar, and turned him to face her. Her face was curled in absolute rage.

"Ye take that back!"

"No! Because you damn well know it's true! Why? Why is it whenever I try to be nice to you, you're so quick to insult me? I'm sorry that you had to go through that, but I thought you had gotten over that already! Why don't you just bury the hatchet, and we can settle this once and for all?"

She slapped his face, "It's not just about North ye fucking asshole!"

England paused a moment, before he could argue. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"Ye damn well know what I mean! After all ye put me through, ye expect me to be nice to a lowlife douchebag like ye? I can't even stand ye, asshole! I hate ye! I HATE YE!" she screamed straight in his face.

England, curious yet nervous, swallowed and asked, "Well...why?"

"Ye should know! Don't ye even remember your own damn past before America? I was your lil' servant in the UK and everything. And I did everything for ye t'en! But ye know what me reward was?"

England didn't answer quick enough, so Ireland hissed in his face, "A shot through the stomach from your man Cromwell and a huge lovely famine to go along with it. That's what."

England couldn't help but cringe at her hate laced words. He now could understand why she had been so cold towards him. Cromwell's campaign in Ireland had ended with him overthrowing power, and killing Irish Catholics.

"He killed me people, me CHILDREN, te fruit of me country! All tem poor people didn't stand a chance against him, and ye did nothing but cheer him on in his little campaign! I cried, I BEGGED for ye to put a stop to him, but ye didn't listen to me! Ye let him kill innocent babes, and mammies, and dads! Me people starved, begging for food, and fought each other for whatever t'ey could get. The last time I had held a child, before North was born, it was one that was starving and dying. And by te time Cromwell was good and pleased with what he had done, he decided to shoot me through te stomach, just so he could make his damn point across."

England felt her rest her head despondently against his shoulder, and she hissed angrily, "I'll be lucky if I can ever bear children of my own."

England began to say, "Ireland, I-I didn't know that it had bothered you so much..."

"It just didn't bother me. It SCARRED me. I'm so damn afraid of someone like him coming and attacking me or my brother."

"I-I..."

"Just get away from me. Ye want to make it better? Then get out of me sight."

"B-but I-"

"Ye ruined me life, now get away from me!" she shouted, getting off of him, and stumbling down the rough terrain, until she could find a place to sit. She then placed her head in her hands and cried. She felt somewhat relieved that she was able to release the suppressed anger and pain that she had been hanging onto, but now felt terrible. How could she have gotten herself into this mess?

England, feeling rather guilty now, for having made the Irishwoman cry (well, it wasn't really HIS fault technically, but...) sighed, and got himself back up. He knew that telling her that campaigns and invasions were normal for countries, and that if she didn't like it, then tough; but... Seeing the old girl weeping down the slope made him feel obliged to go and say something, at least one thing, comforting. Noticing she was not wearing her hat, he looked over on the rail, and saw her hat laying deserted on the tracks. Picking it up, he walked quietly over to the sobbing Ireland.

He placed it calmly on her head. She looked up, red eyed, and confused. He said calmly, "An Irishlady shouldn't desert her hat."

She didn't respond, and simply looked down at the ground, scowling.

Clearing his throat, England tried at his Gaelic.

"Éirinn, Tá mé go mór faoi leithscéal as a bhfuil díobháil duit." he said kindly, "In other words, I'm deeply sorry for having hurt you."

Ireland looked up, and wiped her eyes, "And ye expect me to forgive ye because ye can speak me language?"

"No. I just have a question."

She monotonously said, "Shoot."

"What else do you hate about me?"

She bit her lip. She answered grumpily, "One, your eyebrows are absolutely hideous. And two, ye seem gayer than a rainbow unicorn."

England nearly laughed at those, "Y-you're serious?"

"Yeh. Now what else do you want?"

"Nothing. I just want to say once again I'm sorry for not having treated you well in the past. Now that I understand you better, maybe we can get along."

Looking down, Ireland sucked in a breath, and mumbled something inaudible.

"What?"

"I'm sorry for being such a bitch alright?"

Chewing his lip, England nodded, "It's alright. Do you forgive me?"

"No."

England gave an annoyed sigh. She might have cheered up just a little, but she was still a stubborn one.

He looked around, "Well, I can't afford another train ticket, and from my last visit here to France, the nearest bus stop would probably be at least ten miles from here. I've got enough to buy a bus pass. And you?"

"Yeh. I've got enough for a bus trip, but not that much all in all."

"Well, we'd better get going, the others will be looking for us everywhere I bet."

"Yeh."

They both got up, and England leading the way, they started off down the rough terrain, and near the woodsy clearing to the town.

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><p><strong>I added a little bit of history (inaccurate as it is) about Oliver Cromwell in there. :D<strong>

**Read and Review or I'll shoot Iggy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Some more England and Ireland . This chapter was fun to write, and I liked the ending. No loving just yet though...**

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><p>The two countries walked through the wooded area, at a brisk pace, hoping to find a nearby town soon, where they could get reliable directions to a bus stop or a phone. England walked ahead while Ireland slugged along behind, not really trying to keep up with him. England simply walked straight, through the clearing, since it seemed the most direct, and easiest since the sunset sky was beginning to darken and would impair their vision.<p>

He found it a bit bothersome for himself that he wasn't talking to Ireland, and they were keeping a considerably long distance away from each other. He'd occasionally glance back and see the red haired girl slowly following behind him a ways away, so at least he could confirm that she didn't wander away.

Soon enough, England took a glance around, and he could have sworn that he had passed the creek ten minutes before. And then he passed it again. Ireland seemed to notice it.

"Oy, did ye lie when ye said ye knew where yer goin'? We've passed that creek at least four times boyo!"

"N-no we didn't! It looks very different if you look closely. That rock used to be over th-"

"Admit it Artie. We're lost and going around in circles."

"Bagh! W-well, let's go this way since it'll probably lead us to another town that way!" said England, irritated, and took a sharp left, and started to walk into the thick brush.

"Ahh, I wouldn't do that if I were ye." warned Ireland, who eyed the thick brambles and weeds.

"Oh bollocks! The sooner we get out of here, the-GYAGH!" he cried as his foot caught on a tangle in the rough, and he fell over. He gave a little grunt of pain.

Ireland tilted her head, "Ye okay there?"

Struggling to get up, England gave a wave. "I-I'm fine, I just fe-agh!" he grunted, as he felt a rough pain in his right ankle. He slowly got back down. Ireland, slowly watching her step, eased her way over to the Englishman in the tangly rough grasses. She asked, "Does your leg hurt?"

"N-no, just my ankle. I'm fine. Lemme just get back up-"

"Let me see it. If it's hurt, you don't want to strain it too much." she said, as she took off his shoe, and sock, and examined the ankle. It wasn't swelling, so it wasn't broken, which was good. She moved it up, and down slightly. She asked England, "Do you feel a duller pain or sharper pain."

"It's a little sharp, but not unbearable."

"Well, it looks like it's just a sprain. Nothing's broken, which is t'e good news, since I'd then have to set it. You're an idyit for even going into t'e brush."

He spat annoyed, "It's not my fault. The bloody Frog has way too much crap around this place for us to know where we're going."

"Which is why it's still yer fault. Expect the unexpected, ye amadán."

"Hmf, you just love to pick on me, don't you git?"

"It's not that difficult to. You're about as sharp as a beachball." she quipped back, putting his sock and shoe back on. Getting up, she grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him up, slowly.

"I can walk fine."

"You'll hurt your ankle worse t'at way, now just put yer arm right here, and I'll help ye walk t'e rest of t'e way, okay Brit?"

"Bah, fine, but say anything stupid, and I'll give you a bloody sprain too."

Ireland rolled her eyes, "Gentleman thine name is Kirkland."

"Stupid git."

"Harebrained brit." she countered, pulling him along. She wasn't happy, nor excited to do this, since she still couldn't stand the British man much, but as a doctor, she felt obliged to help the poor guy.

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><p>Soon enough they stopped upon finding an old wooden shed, used for shearing and garden tools. When Ireland opened the door, they saw it was empty,except for some boxes of tools, an old oil lamp, matches and what seemed to be wool carmats used for a truck laying around.<p>

"Hm. It's getting dark. Why don't we stay in here for the night, and keep going when it's light out? So I can rest my ankle at least."

"Ye sure about that? I don't think we're supposed to be in here."

"Nobody will mind if we stay in here, and I don't think anyone will know." he replied as he sat on a crate, and struck a match, lighting the lamp. He put his hands near the lamp, hoping the heat would warm up his cold fingers. Ireland sat down in a corner of the tiny shed, and rubbed her arms to keep warm. The early spring temperatures were not the most warm in France.

England, noticing her sitting grumpily on the floor, took off his jacket and tossed it to her.

"What's this for?"

"Wear it, so you don't freeze your lucky ass off."

"I'm fine." she muttered.

"Trust me, the weather here gets bloody chilly."

"So why don't ye keep yer darn jacket?"

"I'm used to the cold more. Visiting Russia during the day of the Allies was far worse than this."

"Hm." she mumbled, snuggling into the jacket's warmth. She was looking at the ground, her mind swimming.

England asked curiously, "You alright?"

She looked up, worried, "I miss North."

"Don't worry, they're probably looking for us. Once we find a payphone, I'll call Belgium, and tell her to let them know we're alright, and where we are, so someone can come find us."

"Well, I know t'at...but when I last talked to 'im, the last thing I said to 'im was that I told 'im to shut up."

England was a little off guard when he saw Ireland wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

"He prolly hates me now."

England got up, and limping his leg over to her, he patted her on the shoulder, "I know for a fact that he could never hate you. You're his sister, and he loves you very much. I mean, when I was taking care of him, he'd ask me everyday for the first year when you were coming back to get him. And then the second year, he had saved up money in his spare time so he could get a bus ticket and visit you. And he'd always be as excited as a kid on Christmas when it came to world meetings, just to see you. Do you honestly think he could hate you after all that?"

Ireland remained silent. She then asked, looking back up, "Do ye hate me?"

"What?"

"Do ye hate me? After how I've treated ye like complete shit?"

"Well, do you hate me? I remember you clearly telling me you did."

"I-I didn't really mean it, I guess. I guess I don't hate ye."

"Well there you have it. I don't hate you if you don't hate me. Simple as that."

She raised her eyebrows, as if to question the truth of that statement.

"You may be a bloody git sometimes, and incredibly annoying. And a drunk asshole. But I don't hate you. You've been far too nice to me in the past for me to hate you. And you're defnitely not a bad person. You like to help people, and you're a doctor. You're just tough for me to understand."

She began to slightly turn up the corners of her mouth. "I guess you're not too bad. You've got a hideous brow, and a huge stick up yer ass sometimes, but ye aren't t'at bad."

"So does that mean you like me?"

"Bullshit. You're not likable enough for me." she mumbled, snarkily.

"Yeah. I'll just say you're growing a bit more tolerable for me alright?"

"Done deal Brit." she answered, and yawned.

England smirked, "We should probably get some sleep. We'll have to get a good start tomorrow."

Ireland nodded, and lay down on the ground, grabbing a wool mat. Draping it over herself, she yawned and closed her eyes. England did the same, laying near her. Unfortunately for him, Ireland was often a restless sleeper, and often moved. Neither of them would realize that this would bring quite an embarrasment in the morning.

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><p>Both nations were startled awake by a gruff angry voice yelling at them.<p>

"What in th' bloody 'ell are ye freeload'rs doin' in 'ere ye grubby bastr'ds?" yelled the voice. Both opened their eyes to see a large burly man in overalls glaring at them. His red and gray beard was unkempt and bushy, and his hairline was really receding.

England gulped, realizing that this was the owner of the shed, and he was not pleased to see two strangers sleeping in it.

"Oh, um, is this your shed, well if you would be so kind as to let us explain, we were just..."

"Y'bloody theives want'd to steal me stuff during the night, and then claim it as yer own!" swore the man, whose face was red with anger.

"N-no we didn't, we just-"

"And then you decide to 'ave a go at each ot'r in me damn shed! Horny fuck'rs!"

"Wait, wha-" Ireland asked, before she gave a shriek of realization that she was laying right on top of England. She must have rolled on top of him during the night. And to make it even more embarrassing, her blouse had slipped, giving England a wonderful birds eye view of her breasts. England blushed embarrassed, and slowly got out from under her. He never knew she had rolled on him, and he accidentally had wrapped his arms around her too. If France had been there, it would have never been forgotten.

"F'rst I 'ave ye stealin' me stuff, then yer fuckin' in me shed! I oughta call th' fuzz on ye!"

England stood up, and said, "Look, we're really sorry about all this, but we swear we didn't-"

He was interrupted by a punch to the face from the beefy fist of the man. He doubled over, rubbing his eye, which would no doubt be black and bruised later.

Ireland said, "Hey! He was just trying to explain to you what was going on! Ciach ort!" she swore.

"Níor chóir duit freeloaders diabhal a bheith anseo!" swore the man back. Ireland was surprised. He spoke Irish?

"An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?" she asked.

"Sea, cad é a thabhairt duit?" he grumbled back in Gaelic.

"Ach nach bhfuil tú ag na Fraince?" she asked.

"Cónaí orm in Éirinn, ach tá grá mo bhean chéile i bPáras. Nuair a fuair sí bás, chinn mé le teacht anseo." the man answered, this time a bit calmer.

"Mo comhbhrón ó chroí. Más féidir liom mé féin a cheadú a mhíniú, chaill mé mo chara agus ár n-traein, agus táimid ag iarraidh a fháil go dtí an baile a aimsiú stad bus nó ar an bhfón. D'fhan muid anseo i ndiaidh Gortaítear mo chara a rúitín." Ireland replied back politely.

"Bhfuil ciall i bhfad níos mó, Tá brón orm le haghaidh an mhíthuiscint. Seán is ainm dom." the man answered back, this time a bit more kindly.

Ireland smiled, "Uimh leithscéal ag teastáil, ach d'fhéadfadh sé cabhrú leat dúinn, b'fhéidir, a fháil amach anseo? Ní mór dúinn a fháil chun Antwerp go luath."

The man nodded, "Is féidir liom tú ag tiomáint i mo trucail go baile, ach sin chomh fada agus is Feicfidh mé tú. Caithfidh mé a chop roinnt logs."

Ireland nodded too, "Réasúnta go leor."

England finally piped up, having got off the ground, "I only speak so much Gaelic, Mal. I didn't understand half of what you two just said. Translate?"

"This man is named Sean, and he is from Ireland, but after his wife died, he moved here. He can give us a lift to the nearest town, but then he has to leave, so he can work."

"Uh...That sounds good. ...Thank you very much Sean. My name is En-uh... Arthur, and this is Mallory."

"Hm. Pleas'r to meet ye." grumbled Sean. Embarrassed, he then offered his hand, "Well, uh...sorry f'r punchin' ye out."

Rubbing his sore eye, England nodded, "No hard feelings there..."

"Well...uh...if ye and y'r lady wanna get to town, then ye'd bett'r get goin'. Me truck's just outside..."

England and Ireland blushed embarrassed. They weren't a couple, and they were ashamed that their first impression had made it look like that.

They got into the truck and waited for Sean to get in and drive away. As they waited, Ireland looked over, and asked, "How's yer eye? It looks like a lovely shiner right now."

"It's bloody sore, but it'll probably feel better later."

"I can put ice on it later for ye. Most likely, it will hurt later."

"I guess so." He then saw her staring at him with a smirk, he smirked back, "What are you looking at?"

"Yer eyebrows. They're still really hideous."

"Hmf. Says the woman whose eyebrows are just as thick as mine."

"At least I pluck them enough." she snorted back.

He playfully argued, "Well what about 'being yourself'?"

"Let's face it Arthur. Ye don't get good bedroom experiences with caterpillars for eyebrows."

"Well maybe for you, but I've had some wonderful times with them." he said matter-of-factly.

She hit his shoulder. "Yer ankle any better?"

"Actually, it doesn't really hurt at all."

"Oh, t'at's good. Because I was tired of bein' te human crutch." she snorted.

England began to laugh at Ireland's snarky answers, as if it was a conversation between two old friends. He didn't however see Ireland hide a quick sweet smile, as she quickly began to give a smirk.

Sean then got into the truck, after locking his shed, and writing a "TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT." sign in front of it.

Ireland then asked, "Is there a bus stop in the town?"

"From what I rememb'r there's 'un, but it only comes in th' mornin'. And it won't get ye to Antwerp, if that's what yer wonderin'. Best bet is to call one of yer chums to pick ye up 'ere, or at the nearest bus stop."

"Well, thank you t'en, that'll save us a little trouble t'en."

"Well t'en uh...if ye or yer husband need me for anyt'ing els-"

"SHE'S NOT MY WIFE!" exclaimed England, blushing.

Ireland let her head sink into her hands, still really ashamed of her wake up call.

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><p><strong>The next chapter will probably be dealing with Northern Ireland, and the search party. The subplot will be pretty funny, as it ends up being the search party from hell.<strong>

**Lots of google translator in this chapter...**

**Read and Review or I'll...f*ck, I'm too tired to think of a good threat. Just please review. I've only got three reviews for the first two chapters!**

**Translations:**

**amadán : idiot**

**Ciach ort: Damn you**

**Níor chóir duit freeloaders diabhal a bheith anseo: You shouldn't be here, damn freeloaders**

**An bhfuil Gaeilge agat? : Are you Irish? (Do you speak Irish?)**

**Sea, cad é a thabhairt duit: Yes, what gives? (What is it to you?)**

**Ach nach bhfuil tú ag na Fraince? : But aren't you French?**

**Cónaí orm in Éirinn, ach tá grá mo bhean chéile i bPáras. Nuair a fuair sí bás, chinn mé le teacht anseo: I lived in Ireland, but my wife loved Paris, so when she died, I came here.**

**Mo comhbhrón ó chroí. Más féidir liom mé féin a cheadú a mhíniú, chaill mé mo chara agus ár n-traein, agus táimid ag iarraidh a fháil go dtí an baile a aimsiú stad bus nó ar an bhfón. D'fhan muid anseo i ndiaidh Gortaítear mo chara a rúitín: My condolences. If you allow me to explain, my friend and I lost our train, and we want to get to town to find a bus stop or phone. We stayed here after my friend hurt his ankle.**

**Bhfuil ciall i bhfad níos mó, Tá brón orm le haghaidh an mhíthuiscint. Seán is ainm dom: That clears up everything. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. My name is Sean (John).**

**Uimh leithscéal ag teastáil, ach d'fhéadfadh sé cabhrú leat dúinn, b'fhéidir, a fháil amach anseo? Ní mór dúinn a fháil chun Antwerp go luath: No apologies needed, but could we ask you a favor? We need to get to Antwerp soon.**

**Is féidir liom tú ag tiomáint i mo trucail go baile, ach sin chomh fada agus is Feicfidh mé tú. Caithfidh mé a chop roinnt logs: I can take you in my truck to town, but that's as far as I'll go, since I have to chop some logs.**

**Réasúnta go leor: Quite (That's good.)**

**Google translator kind of sucks, so I'm sorry if it's wrong. **


	6. Chapter 6

**I had some fun with this chapter.**

**WARNING: IT'S STUPID. VERY STUPID.**

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><p>As the search party walked along the thin riverbank and railroad, they looked left and right for the missing nations. Switzerland led the way, while Russia and Northern Ireland followed closely behind. Belarus was too close for comfort behind her brother, Lithuania smittenly trailed behind her, while Poland flirtatiously wrapped his arm around Lithuania's shoulder, gossiping the whole time. Switzerland was gripping his gun very protectively, and was staring sharply ahead of him, but would jerk his head at the sound or notion of something strange. He took an occasional glance at the railroad tracks, looking for where the train had its accident.<p>

They found it pretty quickly, and they all looked around. Northern Ireland was the first to speak, "Me t'eory is t'at t'ey ended up on shore, since the current isn't t'at wild. T'ey probably walked back to t'e train station."

Switzerland frowned, "How can you be sure?"

"T'ey're strong swimmers, I've seen t'em, and t'ey're not dumb enough to try any other route. The train station is te closest public t'ing around here." he answered.

That was sadly ironic.

The train station was a bit of a walk, which Switzerland was not looking forward to, but since he was being badgered by Ireland's little brother to do so, he gave in and agreed to walk that way.

As they walked, Russia was humming some Russian folksong of some sort, and Belarus walked right behind him, whispering, "Big brother...that voice...you can sing at our wedding..."

Russia ran ahead of them all, and grabbed North by the arm, dragging the passive little country, shouting, "Don't let her get me North!"

"BaaaaaaaaaaWhaaaaaaat?" asked North, confused and flailing behind. Russia still scared the crap out of him, especially after he attacked him in the train. He couldn't really trust him, but he'd have no choice but to be kind to the Russian, hoping he wouldn't try and harm him.

Poland, lagging along, sighed, and said, "Like, I'm so bored."

Belarus grumbled, "Find a way to entertain yourself, simpleton."

Poland took out some string, and began to play cats cradle. "Like, Lithuania, look! Isn't this totally cool?"

"You've showed me that trick before."

"Well, okay then. Lemme try something, like, totally cool." said Poland stretching his arms around and trying different movements. Lithuania sighed, at how his friend could be such a show off.

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><p><strong>FIVE MINUTES LATER<strong>

"Hold still so I can get this off of you!"

"I'm fine, it's just like a little tangl-OW!" cried Poland whose hands were trapped in the string. Switzerland had to stop the walk momentarily to take care of the Polish man's problem.

"Let me do it da?" asked Russia, who then tugged the string with a strong pull, snapping it. Poland screamed "OW!" and rubbed his wrist tenderly.

Switzerland sighed with an annoyed expression, and tapping his foot impatiently, he snapped, "Now can we get on with our mission?"

Belarus glared, "Hey, don't get snippy with us!"

Switzerland argued back, "Then why don't you quit lagging behind like little children and get to work? There's two nations missing and we have to find them!"

Without waiting for an answer, he turned around, speedwalking. He was trying to get to the train station as quickly as possible, hoping to get this search party over with.

Northern Ireland felt someone tap his shoulder, and turned around to see Russia looking rather wide eyed.

"I need to pee, da!"

"Well, um...go in te bushes?"

"But what about the animals living in the bushes?"

"I'm sure they'd run away at te sight of a human. _Baaa_"

"Well...da, if you say so comrade."

About three minutes later, North felt someone tap his shoulder once more. He turned to see Russia, his coat slightly shredded, and his face with a few scratches. He looked childishly disappointed.

"You lied comrade! The animals don't hide at all!"

"_Baaa_,really? Well didn't t'ey scurry away?"

"Ohhhhh no. That bear wasn't really happy that I disrupted his nap."

North paled, when he slowly looked behind the large Russian man, and saw a large bear on all fours, angry. It rose up and bared its teeth.

"What's wrong comrade?"

Northern Ireland barely uttered a squeak, and shakily pointed behind Russia. Russia turned around to then see the large growling animal.

Switzerland, Lithuania, Belarus, and Poland all jumped in surprise to hear two loud long screams and then saw Russia and Northern Ireland run like the wind, screaming, "RUN AWAY RUN AWAY RUN AWAY!"

They all turned to see a bear running in their direction, snarling, with its teeth bared hungrily. They all screamed, and Poland jumped into Lithuania's arms (or attempted to, since he knocked the poor guy over). Lithuania got up quickly, dropping Poland, and ran like the dickens.

"LIKE WHAT THE HELL?"

"SORRY FELIKS, IT'S EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!" he cried, running to avoid getting killed by the bear. Sighing, Poland got up, and stood right in the direction of the bear. He held his hand out, to motion for the bear to stop, and surprisingly, it did.

"Feliks!" hissed Lithuania nervously, having seen his friend stop. "What are you doing?"

Everyone turned to see the amazing event.

Poland strutted flambouyantly around the bear, "Uh, like, no, no, and NO honey. This dirty fur has GOT to go. Like, NOW."

The bear growled confusedly.

"Well, because it's so last year. What you need is a good bath, and a sweet new style."

The bear growled confused, once again.

"Darling, like, go wash yourself in that river, and you'll look so fabulous with some flowers."

The bear, giving a satisfied growl, walked over to the river, and jumped in.

Everyone stared agape at Poland.

Belarus asked, "How did you DO that?"

Poland shrugged, "Like, I'm just that good."

* * *

><p>Soon enough they reached the train station, but it was near deserted except for the tramps and bagpeople who were inhabiting the area.<p>

Northern Ireland and everyone else looked around for at least an hour, and looked at the few people at the station, but nothing was found.

"_Baaa_, did you see them?"

"Nope." everyone said, when it got too dark.

"But, da! I found some gum!" cheered Russia happily, as he chewed the gray wad.

Lithuania stared, and hesitantly asked, "Where?"

Russia whistled uneasily, not wanting to tell them about the special bench he found.

Northern Ireland felt the lump in his throat rise again. His eyes burned with tears, as he began to fear the worst. What if they were dead?

"Well, I guess then we call it, and go ba-hey what?" Switzerland paused confused, watching the Irishman begin to cry. He didn't realize that the Irishman had just burst into tears, and it didn't seem that he would be calming down any time soon. Switzerland felt his mind go blank with options as he tried to think of how to respond. He didn't really know how to respond to someone crying, and didn't really like dealing with it, since it often made him feel unnecessarily guilty. He knew how to comfort his little sister Liechtenstein, when she was sad or upset, but that was kind of the only case where he could do such a task at ease. He didn't really know Northern Ireland that well anyway, and didn't socialize with him, except for when the softspoken Irishman sat near him at meetings. He bit his lip trying to think of something to do for the crying nation, but it would be tough, since Northern Ireland wasn't exactly a little girl.

"Ah-, um...there there?"

As he tried to pat North's shoulder, the red haired nation suddenly darted forward, jumped onto the tracks, and began to kick madly at the dirt in between the rails. His sister and friend were gone, and he didn't know who could be blamed for it. He could just tear at the ground, until his fury was gone, but when would that be?

Everyone else couldn't help but watch the man tear wildly at the ground, crying his frustration, feeling slightly guilty that they couldn't find a way to help at this moment. North had always been a helpful person for them, but they didn't know how to return the favor.

Russia then broke the barrier, by jumping down onto the tracks, and stopping Northern Ireland from further angry kicks at the ground by wrapping his arms around him in a hug. He patted Northern Ireland's head, as he could feel the sobs racking the other's body. He considered Northern Ireland his new friend, even if the other nation didn't think the same, and friends help each other. North was too upset to even realize the intimidating nation was comforting him, and he just continued to cry. He felt awful...

A middle aged woman who lived at the station tapped Lithuania's shoulder. "Excuze me, but would you mind telling me why zat poor man iz crying?" she asked curiously with a heavy French accent.

"Oh, um, there was an accident with a train, and we appear to be missing two of the passengers. One of them was his sister. We were sure they'd have walked here, but they're not here..."

"Out of curiozity, would zey 'ave been a blond 'aired man, and a red 'aired woman?"

"Why, y-yes! And did the man have thick eyebrows?"

"Oui! Zey got off zee train and missed it. Zey started arguing on zee tracks."

"O-oh good! They weren't in the accident! Would you know where they went?"

"I am zorry, but I went back inzide when zey were fighting. My guess is zat zey caught zee next train, or zey walked to zee nearest town."

"Oh..."

"But I guarantee zat zey are zafe and zound."

"Oh that's wonderful!" said Lithuania happily, and relieved. "Hey Colin, guess what?"

He told the Irish man what the woman had just told him, and recieved a hug from North that was so strong and excited, it nearly knocked him over. North was so relieved that they were alright, and that they weren't in the train when the accident happened.

"So that good news it looks like, da!"

"But, um...I totally have some sucky news." interrupted Poland.

"What?"

"Tomorrow is Sunday, and the trains don't operate tomorrow. And the nearest bus stop is like ten miles from here, from what I've heard. Looks like we'll have to stay here until tomorrow morning or something."

"D-doesn't anyone have any money or something so we can hail a taxi?" asked Switzerland nervously, realizing that their ride to the meeting was gone .

"Don't you?" they all asked, pockets empty.

...

Switzerland couldn't stop mumbling various curses as they all settled down under the night sky on the train platform.

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><p><strong>J-just read and review alright? I'm growing sad because I feel so unloved.<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Not much to say, enjoy!**

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><p>Sean had been nice enough to drive them to the bus depot, and give them directions to the nearest food spots, phones, and a cheap bed and breakfast, which they could have possibly afforded for one night with their money on hand combined. They just hoped that they wouldn't miss the meeting, and if they didn't want to, they'd have to be on their feet, and take every opportunity they could to get to Antwerp.<p>

When the truck had pulled up in front of the depot, they both got out, and England said, "Thank you Sean for escorting us here, it was a big help."

"Yer welcome chum. And uh, you can stick 'round 'ere if ye and yer girlfriend need anyt-"

"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" exclaimed England, red as Spain's tomatoes. Sean rolled his eyes with a 'oh-sure-_I_-believe-you' expression, gave one last wave and drove off.

After watching the truck drive away, Ireland folded her arms, and said, "Well, t'at saved our feet from tiring out an extra ten miles! Now we just gotta check te bus schedule."

"You do that, I'll find a payphone and call Belgium, letting her know where we are."

As soon as they got into the building, England could see a row of payphones lined along the wall. He walked into the first one, and as he tried to slide his money into the slot, it was refused. He read the little notice on the phone: "Accepte des euros seulement" and below it, in English read, "Accepts euros only."

"Good bloody hell." England muttered. He went over to the kiosk on the wall, and eventually found the marker for the currency booth. When he got over there the lights were shut off, and there was a note written in French, then English:

"Our currency booth is currently closed, due to security issues. Have a nice day! :) "

As England muttered various swear words, he went over to the information desk, and asked the teenage attendant, "Parlez-vous anglais ?"

"Yes, I speak English." the girl answered brushing her purple highlighted black hair, very clearly. "I'm from America."

"Oh, well, um. Could I borrow your desk phone for a moment?"

She frowned, "There are payphones over there."

"Well, yes. but they don't accept my currency."

"That's what the currency booth is for sir."

"It's closed. Can I use your phone please?"

"Use another currency booth?"

"There's only one! I have to call to Antwerp as soon as possible and the bloody machine WON'T. ACCEPT. MY. MONEY!" said England, failing to keep calm.

"Okay,okay, fine use it." she said, rolling her eyes, and muttered, "I hate this job."

England punched in the number, and soon enough Belgium answered, "Hello?"

"Hello um-" England saw the information desk attendant watching him, he frowned, "Do you mind?" she rolled her eyes and put her headphones in, picking up a magazine.

"Hello Belgium, it's me England."

"England? We heard you and Ireland fell off the train!"

"No, we're both- wait, you thought we fell off the train?"

"Yeah, the train jumped the track and tipped over the river almost. Your emergency exit door popped open, and you guys weren't there, so they thought you got knocked off. Russia, Northern Ireland, Switzerland, Belarus, Poland, and Lithuania went looking for you!"

"Oh my." England said, realizing how this had caused quite a commotion. "Well, what happened was, there was a little mix up, and we missed the train in Tours when it made a stop. We're sorry that we gave anyone a scare. We're both fine, and we're trying to get to Antwerp."

"Well, can you get here by the meeting tomorrow morning?"

"We really hope so. Where's Northern Ireland?"

"They're still searching for you. I can try and call Poland's cell phone, since he was the only one carrying one. Just wait a second."

As England waited, he saw Ireland coming up to him, grumbling, "T'ose French fried freaks are complete assholes! The bus schedules are written in complete French and are absolutely unreadable!"

England nodded, and whispered, "_Shh_ for a moment. I'm talking to Belgium. She's trying to call Poland to tell him and the search party where we are. North is with them."

"North? W-well can I talk to him?"

"We'll see Mal, we'll see." he mumbled. Belgium returned, "I couldn't get a hold of Poland on the phone. It must be turned off."

"Oh blast it. Oh well, thanks anyway. We'll try and get to Antwerp as soon as we can."

"You're welcome, and glad to hear you're alright."

"Goodbye." said England, as he hung up the phone.

"Well, now about te schedule, I can't read 'em."

"I've traveled here before, I can interpret them."

As he read the schedule, he bit his tongue. None of them could reach straight to Antwerp, and jumping from bus to bus would be tricky, especially if the schedule at any other bus stop wasn't going to work.

"Well our best bet is to probably take the bus to Ghent at 11:30 AM, then there will probably be a bus to Antwerp there. It's a pretty pricey trip, but nowhere near where the train ticket costs. And it'll get us pretty far. We could be in Antwerp by the middle of the night."

"Well it's ten forty-five now, so we best buy our tickets now."

As soon as they had purchased their tickets, they were left with barely enough to get one ticket for the next bus. England groaned, realizing that they would not be able to get to Antwerp then. Ireland patted his shoulder, "Don't worry, we'll think of something soon enough."

As they waited by the bus terminals, Ireland sat down on a bench, and took out a hair brush from her purse. Taking out the pins in her hair, her messy bun unraveled, leaving flowing red hair down her back. She took off her hat, allowing the top of her head to give way for her hair. She began to brush it, trying to pull out the tangles in it. It had gotten a little untidy and frizzed after not being washed like it should have yesterday. The hair sifted through the brush very smoothly, and the sun outside had caused the russet hair to gleam a carrot orange.

England sat down, and out of pure interest watched her brush her hair. He had to admit, it was rather beautiful when it was let down, and cascading down her back. It made her look a few years younger, and although he really wouldn't want to admit it out loud...cute.

When she had finished brushing her hair, she was picking up one of the pins, to put her bun back in, but England stopped her gently with his hand. She gave a confused look, "I need to put my hair up."

"Don't. It looks really nice when it's down." he complimented, and put the hat on her head. He nodded, "Gorgeous." And indeed, he thought she was.

Ireland tried to hide her blush. Nobody had ever considered her that beautiful. It made her feel kind of giddy to be told such a thing.

They were silent for a bit, until England broke the silence, "Hey Mal?"

"Hm?"

"I-if you were so upset about what happened with Cromwell...why didn't you ever seem upset on the anniversary of when that happened?"

Ireland was silent for a long time. England cut in, "I shouldn't have asked that, how stupid of m-"

"-no no. I can explain...I t'ink." she interrupted. Giving a sigh, she said, "It was such a pain for me to have te even mention it, it was that awful. I knew t'at in te end, giving North to ye was fer te best, and t'at it wouldn't be so much a tragedy as a guilt. Fer what happened with Cromwell...it sucks te even T'INK about t'at day. So I guess I liked te give te excuse t'at I was upset for what happened with North, and t'en I could vent out me troubles about Cromwell...even though I WAS upset about giving up me little brother, but...ay...you know what I'm gettin' at boyo?"

A sympathetic look in his eyes, England surprisingly wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and giving her a hug, said, "Don't worry, I understand, and we'll forget about it okay?"

"Ah...yeh...okay." she said, blushing a little. In truth, she'd probably never forget about it, but she decided that maybe it was time to mend the rift, and...

"...'Ey Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"I...I forgive ye..."

His eyes softening, England took her hand and gave it a little peck. "Well thanks."

Ireland blushed a deep pink, a bit offguarded by this guesture. She knew that they did that, but Arthur kissed her hand? That seemed...weird.

Just yesterday, they were arguing violently with eachother, and now they were acting like buddies!

Ireland began to bite her lip, slightly annoyed. She wasn't falling for the bastard was she? Not in the slightest? She denied any feelings for him then and there, and just sat, waiting for the bus. But the thoughts wouldn't get out of her head then, and she'd be stuck with them.

England bit the inside of his cheek. He now felt like a douche for having kissed her hand, since he didn't exactly know the customs of Ireland. For all he knew, she could have taken it as a sign of attraction. And yet, he kind of meant it when he kissed her. He wasn't going to admit it, but he may have been developing a liking for Ireland.

When they got on the bus, they were walking to a seat when a little boy, about six years old threw a plastic cup of water to the ground, smashing it, and the water splashed onto the two nations' legs.

The boy's mother scolded, "Tommy! Look what you've done, now apologize to the man and his girlfriend!"

England nearly yelled at the woman, but sufficed with sighing, annoyed. Ireland rolled her eyes, amazed at how frequently people considered them so.

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><p><strong>Slowly growing fluffy...<strong>

**Read and Review please please please.**


	8. Chapter 8

**This was a really funny chapter to write. This is truly the failed search party from hell. This takes place around the middle of the night when Ireland and England were at the shed.**

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><p><strong><span>THE FOLLOWING NIGHT<span>**

Switzerland woke up to being poked in the arm, and someone whispering "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Hunh? Poland, what time is it?"

"Like, 1 AM."

Annoyed, Switzerland mumbled, "Why the hell did you wake me up at three in the morning?"

"Well, um...I kinda like...dropped my phone..."

"Well isn't it alright? That's our only way to call back to Belgium, you know."

"Um, I kinda dropped it in the toilet..."

"WHAAAT? How could you do something as stupid as THAT?" asked Switzerland.

"Well, I needed to go to the bathroom, so I did, and when I was done, I had like, the HUGEST and most random urge to call Hungary, since we're like, total bffs, but I dropped it..."

"-in the toilet..." muttered Switzerland, who face palmed, right then and there. "Did you get it out of the toilet?"

"Like, no! It's totally gross to do that!"

"Well too bad! That's our only way of communication. C'mon."

Switzerland took Poland into the bathroom, and looked into the toilet. The phone was floating at the bottom.

"Well Poland? Get it."

"Eeeew!"

"You dropped it, you get it. It's your phone anyway!"

Poland reluctantly reached his hand in, the whole time Poland was mumbling, "Ew...ew...ew...ew...ew...ew..."

When he got it out, the phone's screen was blank, and it was playing the first line from the song "Barbie Girl" before skipping, and playing it again, over and over and over. It was broken.

Switzerland said immediately, "DROP IT BACK IN PLEASE!"

The phone went sploosh into the water, as Switzerland rested his head against the wall, groaning. They were screwed.

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><p><strong>TWO MISERABLE HOURS LATER<strong>

"Switzerland, why did you wake us up at one AM?" yawned Belarus grumpily as they walked through the still dark forest.

"Because POLAND just HAD to go and break our only way of communication with Belgium and France and whoever else. And since none of us have money or a TRAIN to take, we have to WALK to Antwerp."

"Seriously?" everyone asked bewildered. The grumpy nation had woken them all up immediately after he dealt with Poland, and forced them all to start walking through the forest, which was ironically, the same one England and Ireland were passing through. At this very moment, England and Ireland were sound asleep in the shed they had found.

"Yes."

"Like, we'd all die of exhaustion or starvation before we reached there! It's like, a zillion miles! I don't wanna starve!"

"In the winters in some countries, in the olden days, they resorted to cannibalism..." replied Switzerland grimly.

"Who's going first da?"

They all turned their heads sharply to Poland. The effeminate nation freaked out and said, "Gyaa! D-don't eat me! I-I'm totally like, bad tasting!"

"Oh don't worry, I'm a good cook, I can make anything, and I mean _anything_ taste good." said Russia creepily.

"AAAH!" shrieked Poland, who ran behind Lithuania, "L-like, don't let him get near me!"

Switzerland growled, "Enough of this nonsense! We need to keep going if we want to get anywhere!"

Northern Ireland asked curiously, "Mr. Switzerland, are ye serious about walking all te way to Antwerp? Even if we kept on going endlessly, it would take at least a week to get t'ere!"

"Well it's our only option unless someone can think of something."

"T-then we might miss te meetin-"

"Nobody's going to miss the damned meeting!" shouted Switzerland in the Irishman's face. Realizing that he was being unnecessarily harsh towards the younger nation, he softened a little and said, "Sorry...well, we'll think of something soon...and on the brighter side, at least we know your sister and England are alright."

"Are ye certain?"

"Um...well that lady DID say she saw them..."

"But do ye know where t'ey are now?"

"Ah...no..."

"Then how can we know t'at t'ey're alright right now?"

"Oh North, comrade!" cut in Russia, who was listening from behind, having avoided Belarus, "You worry too much! If England and Ireland are walking to Antwerp right now, then they're much farther ahead than us, and if they got desperate, knowing England, he would have been a good meal for Ireland, oh da! Because I know SHE wouldn't have let herself become food first!"

Northern Ireland paled immediately, and Switzerland scolded, "Russia, don't give the man nightmares! And quit talking about cannibalism! Nobody's going to get eaten!"

"But Switzerland, you were the one who brought it up first, da."

"I. Was. JOKING." replied Switzerland through gritted teeth. Everyone stopped in their tracks and stared at him. He looked around, and indignantly said,

"WHAT? Can't I tell a damn joke?"

"We couldn't tell that was a joke back then." replied Belarus.

About ready to lose his temper, Switzerland pulled out his gun, and said, "Okay that's it! If we want to get through this damn trek, I suggest we talk as LITTLE as possible!"

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><p>That was one of Switzerland's worse ideas, because as they walked through the forest, it was still pitch black out, and nobody could see very well, except for right in front of them. And Switzerland began to grow paranoid whenever he had heard a small sound. He'd aim his gun, threatening to fire it in the direction of whatever sounds he had heard.<p>

Hell began to break loose very early that morning when unfortunately, Northern Ireland, trying to avoid Russia, realized that the large nation was right behind him, and a little too close for comfort, began to speedwalk. Russia, oblivious to North's fear of him, decided to be friendly, and catch up to him. When he had gotten very close to him, North was nearly running. Russia then reached his hand out to say hello, when he touched the Irishman's shoulder. Northern Ireland screamed, and as he scrambled to get away, accidentally kicked Russia over, and they both toppled to the ground, with a surprised cry. Switzerland, not knowing it was them, fired his gun, panicked and alert.

Northern Ireland slowly got up, shaking but unharmed. Russia got up, and turned his head to look at his behind. An annoying pain was growing in it, he felt the area with his glove, and saw a little blood. He turned to where he could barely see Switzerland. He said blankly, as if he had noticed it nonchalantly,

"You shot me in the ass."

Switzerland gulped, realizing his error. Russia blinked, and said with a bewildered realization, having understood what happened,

"You shot me in the ass!"

Switzerland stuttered, "I-I'm really sorry I-"

"You Swiss bastard! YOU SHOT ME IN THE ASS!" growled Russia, who began to chase after him. Switzerland screamed and began to run. Everyone else, whose sight could only allow them to see moving, unidentifiable blobs, listened as Russia growled, enraged, and chased after Switzerland, who was crying for help. After about five minutes, softspoken Lithuania shouted, "QUIIIIEEEEEET!"

Both nations stopped in their tracks. Lithuania rolled his eyes, and said, "We're getting far too paranoid. If we know what's good for us, we'll continue onward. Now Russia, let's see if we can fix that..."

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><p>AS the four AM sunrise began to slowly rim the sky, Belarus had managed to cover Russia's butt-wound with duct tape. She stared annoyed at North.<p>

"How is it that you're able to allow yourself to carry duct-tape, but not any money or a phone?"

Grumpy, Northern Ireland countered, shyly, "Well why didn't _ye_ have any? And anyway, when yer a shephard, ye gotta be prepared lassie."

"DON'T call me lassie, Lucky Charms." she growled.

Russia, patched up, then went over, nonchalantly to Switzerland, whisked the gun out of his hands, and calmly, snapped it in two, and chucked the pieces into the bushes. Switzerland, horrified at the destruction of his precious gun, screamed, "WHAT THE HELL IVAN?"

"Now we can all keep going in quiet without worrying about getting killed by Vash, da?"

Sniveling, the blond nation blubbered, "M-my baby..."

"It was a lousy gun anyway da?" Russia said uncaringly.

As they continued on into the night, they had passed a shed, not paying any attention to it, or even considering that their missing friends could have been slumbering away in it.

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><p><strong>The scene with Russia getting shot was kind of a nod to a show called "Knights of Prosperity" where something similar happened. That was the only funny part of the show really...<strong>

**Again, please read and review. I'm gonna try to get this story done soon, since I leave for two weeks on the 23rd with no internet.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Fluffiness ensues. But nothing lemony. At all. Kind of silly.**

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><p>It was an uneventful bus ride to Ghent for the two nations. But it was undeniably long, and boring. About an hour in, Ireland felt her eyelids drooping, getting drowsy. She didn't want to fall asleep just yet, since it was just about noon, and they'd be stuck in the bus until at least one AM. And she didn't want to be awake at a time where she'd usually be asleep. So she then reached into her purse, and took out one of the small bottles of whiskey. Popping open the cap, she was about to take a sip, when she saw England staring at her.<p>

"Oh, did ye want some?"

"Ah...I...guess so..." he said hesitantly. Ireland produced a twin bottle from her purse. England raised an eyebrow, "How much do you HAVE in there?"

She sighed, "That was it. I just had two little bottles in there, and this one is near empty. T'at one is full."

England looked down, "But this is your favorite kind of whiskey. Are you sure you want to give me a whole bottle?"

"Bah, it's fine. I've got enough t' last me a few years back at home. Ye can help yerself te that one."

"Well, um, thank you very much Irela-"

"He, just don't expect me to be THIS nice to ye all te time."

England smirked, "I'll remember that."

He then casually sipped at the alcohol as the journey went on, and couldn't help but feel a bit happy (and growingly tipsy). It seemed as though he and Ireland were finally getting along. He turned his head to her again, and she was looking out the window, watching the scenery drowsily. He saw her hair once again flowing down her back, and couldn't help but smile. She looked so pretty with her hair undone.

She turned her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling dreamily, and England could view her sea water irises. They were dully shining with a drunken sleepiness as she stared around. She sat up, unslouching herself, and hiccuped.

"Hehe, t'ere was a little more whiskey in te bottle t'en I thought."

England laughed, patting her shoulder chummily. She was cute when she was being a lightweight drunk and sleepy he thought. Somewhat tipsy from his own drink, England wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. She giggled drunkly, and poked him.

England, realizing what he did took his arm back, and embarrassed, looked away. He didn't want to get too carried away, even if he was drunk. He may have been starting to like Ireland, but he didn't know what she was thinking, so he decided to keep it small for now.

Ireland however, drunk and a bit giggly, liked this little sign of harmless affection, and hugged him back with a squeeze. She looked up at his surprised face and smiled, patting his head. His eyebrows were becoming more tolerable to look at.

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><p>It was about two AM when they got to Ghent. Both had fallen asleep at about eleven PM (after a long and otherwise boring trip, and many failed attempts to fall asleep), and slept the rest of the way, but they were still rather tired. A bus to Antwerp would be a thirty minute trip. Checking the bus schedule, England had a near panic attack when he saw that the next bus would be leaving in fifteen minutes, and they had no money for a ticket. The meeting would be at ten AM, and walking was not a good idea since they had no idea as to what the terrain and roads were like. As he paced back and forth, thinking of how to get a ride, he heard the intercom annouce in Belgian, then English, the imminent departure of the bus. He grabbed Ireland by the hand, and took off his jacket, rolling it into a ball.<p>

"Here! Put this under your dress, near your stomach!"

"What, boyo?"

"Just do it!"

Annoyed, she put the wadded up jacket under her dress near her waist.

"I look pregnant Arthur."

"Perfect! N-now let's run!"

They darted to the bus and the bus driver, a blonde man, said with a Belgian accent, "Tickets please."

"We don't have any, we're out of money!"

"Then I can't let you on, sorry."

"B-but my WIFE!" England cried, motioning to a confused Ireland, "She's in LABOR!"

Realizing England's plan quickly, Ireland tried to act pregnant, and in pain. She fell dramatically on the ground, gasping for air, screaming.

Some people on the bus gasped. One lady said, "That poor woman!"

"We need to get to the hospital in Antwerp, and we're out of money! Can't you see the PAIN my wife is in?" shouted England, acting panicked and overdramatically.

As Ireland melodramatically screamed in pain, clutching her fake baby bump, the bus driver, red in the face, stuttered, "Uh, um...hop on board, and I can let you off at the bus stop near the hospital..."

"THANK YOU!" shouted both England and Ireland cheerfully and worked up, as they ran on board. As Ireland was about to relax, England whispered, "Don't drop the act just yet, people are still watching us..."

"Oh. Uh...OH TE PAIN! TE PAIN! I'LL NEVER BE HAVIN' KIDS AGAIN!" she cried gasping. The other passengers tried to watch. England heard one of them ask his seat partner if they thought she'd give birth on the bus.

England, seeing people staring and giving weird looks cried, "Do you MIND? My WIFE is clearly in UNBEARABLE pain, and you're all STARING!"

Everyone sheepishly looked away. England whispered, "Not so dramatic, or they'll know we're faking."

"I'm not that good an actress, I'm doing the best I can. And yer acting sucks too, no offense." she whispered back.

"Just act like you're in a considerable amount of pain. And please remember to breathe." he whispered back, holding her hand.

They were able to keep the act up long enough by the time the bus stopped. England picked the acting Ireland up bridal style, and got off the bus. The people near the front wished them good luck, and the bus driver asked the fake-panicked England, "Is this your first kid?"

"Oh, ah, no...we have...five..." he lied through his teeth, then darted off the bus, letting it drive away. He ran a little up the street, before he stopped and let go of Ireland, who took the jacket out from under her dress. Smirking, she said, "Congratulations, it's a boy."

England began to laugh, and cheered, "W-we did it! I'm not sure how we pulled it off, but we did it!"

Laughing happily, he put his arms around the equally excited Ireland, and without thinking, gave her a kiss on the cheek. He pulled back very quickly, realizing what he had just done, and saw that her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she was as red as Spain's tomatoes.

"I-I'm sorry I..." he started, blushing. She simply cut him off, "Ye missed."

"What?"

"Ye missed." she said, and connected their lips. England, slow to react, reacted, and feeling the warmth of her lips wrapped his arms around her, to slightly deepen the kiss. When they broke apart, Ireland was smiling, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well what was t'at about ye Brit? Why te little one on te cheek?"

"I uh...I...I don't know. I-I guess I uh...like you?"

Ireland paused, eyes still wide, but then broke into a grin, laughing, and wrapped her arms around him, "Ye stupid bloke Artie! If ye liked me, why didn't ye say so?"

"Ah...I kinda just sorted out those feelings just recently."

"Aww, yer kinda cute when yer all embarrassed!" she said, kissing his blushing cheek, and hugging him still. He was silent for a while, and then Ireland tussled his hair, asking, "So why ye so silent right now?"

"W-well, do you like me? You said the other day that you could tolerate me, but do you like me?" he asked quietly.

Now it was Ireland's turn to be silent. She seemed to be making a decision in her head. After all that she's dealt with, could she ever like him? And did she like him now? They had become pretty good friends on this trip, and she had to admit, he was quite the charmer. She looked up and smiled, and nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder, she said,

"Yeh. I like ye."

That was Ireland for you, thought England. She wasn't one for poetic words, and she seemed to often speak in very blunt terms.

England placed a kiss to the top of her head, and asked, "So um...are we...together?"

"What?"

"You and me. Are we...dating?" England asked, hesitant to say 'boyfriend and girlfriend'.

"If it means eventually we have make out sessions, t'en yeh." she joked. Letting him go, she started to walk down the street. England asked, "H-hey where are you going?"

"The meeting hall and hotel, duh! It's to the right of Kendall Street, and if ye were readin' te street signs, ye would have seen that it's up this way!"

"Pf. Git." he replied rolling his eyes, walking up to her, and they both walked in the glow of the street light, to their hotel.

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><p>When they got there, they got the number of Belgium's room, and knocked on the door. Sleepily, she opened it, and greeted the two nations.<p>

"Well, it's only about three thirty AM, so why don't you guys *yawn* take the extra hotel room over there, and get some sleep. I bet you're tired."

"Hotel room? As in a singular room?"

"The rest are full, sorry. I hope it won't be too awkward."

"Ah...no. I guess not..." said England, blushing with Ireland.

"I think it has two beds anyway. Let me give you the key." said Belgium, who took a labeled key out of an envelope. "Well see y'guys tomorrow. G'night."

"Wait, what about the search party?"

"They'll probably make it back in the next few days. *yawn*" replied Belgium, who closed her door.

When they got into the small hotel room, England cursed when he realized there was actually only one bed. Ireland raised an eyebrow, "Why are ye so mad about it?"

"Because if we end up in one bed, knowing what happened in the shed, that frog France might come in to wake us up, and get the wrong idea!"

"Oh don't be such a ninny. France won't be slugging his way in here."

"Yeah, but still."

Ireland rolled her eyes, and not bothering to take off her dress flopped onto the bed, tired, knocking off her hat. England taking off his shoes, sighed, and said, "Mallory, don't tell me you don't have the energy to take your boots off."

"I won't." she mumbled, "Ye just said it for me."

"Lazy git." he muttered playfully, as he pulled off her boots. Lifting her up and under the blankets, he pulled the covers over them, and he turned out the desk light. Wrapping his arms around her, he mumbled drowsily, "G'night."

An inaudible mumble from the redhaired woman was translated by England as goodnight, so he ruffled her hair, and soon, both were asleep.

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><p><strong>Next chapter will most likely be the last one, since it's kind of a shorter condensed story. <strong>

**Read and Review or I'll make this story have a similar plot to my genderbend LietBela story. Suicides included.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Final chapter! Fluffiness ensues!**

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><p>England had woken up to the hotel door getting knocked on, their wake up call from Belgium. He said loudly, "Okay Belgium, thank you!" Sitting up and yawning, he looked at the clock, which read 9:00. The meeting would start in an hour.<p>

He gently nudged the Irish woman sleeping next to him ,"Mal, time to get up."

"Hnnn? Whu- whu time izzit?" she mumbled sleepily, and half consciously wrapped her arms around his stomach like he was a teddy bear.

"An hour until the meeting starts Ireland. We'd better get ready. Now could you let me go? I'm not a teddy leprechaun."

"Oh...uh...*yawn*...fine..." she mumbled, squirming under the blankets, and letting him go. She sat up, and let her head flop forward. Her hair was a tangled ball of red frizz.

"I need a shower." she grumbled. "Not enough time to wash me damn hair..."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just get through the meeting, then you can come back here to do whatever."

"Yeh whatever." she yawned, as she got out of bed, and started for the bathroom.

"Bollocks, I wish I had an extra set of clothes. These are pretty grubby." grumbled England. Ireland sighed, and said as she started to walk into the bathroom, "Well just be glad t'at the meeting will be over soon, and t'en we can wash our crap."

"Well yes, but we're supposed to look decent enough for these meetings."

Ireland poked her head out of the bathroom, and said with a playful sneer, "Are ye sayin' I don't look decent now?"

England, trying to think of an answer, was cut off by Ireland who posed in front of the mirror, "Boyo, I'm PAST decent now. I'm bloody gorgeous all te time."

She then whipped her tangled mess of hair back, trying to be dramatically flirty. England rolled his eyes, smirking. "I'd better get ready myself. Could you hurry up with anything you need to do?"

"Yeh, okay. Let me just shower off and I'll fix me rat's nest of hair in the mirror on te wall."

England sat back on the bed, and sighed. This was a pretty weird week for him. Not a bad weird really, but it almost made him happy. He was happy that he and Ireland were together, but for how long? After this meeting was over, would they go back to hating each other? He decided not to worry about it, and just get through the meeting.

Soon enough Ireland was done with her shower, and she gave the bathroom up to England. He took his shower, nearly dropping to his knees and thanking the lord for hot clean water and soap, and then shaved his face with the hotel razor after three whole days of having not done so. As he finished getting dressed, he heard Ireland swear in Gaelic from the door. He walked out of the bathroom, asking, "Everything alright Mal?"

The red haired nation was trying to pull out the hairbrush from a mass of tangles. "The bloody brush got stuck! DAMNIT." she swore as she tried to pull it out. When she did finally, she gave a whine, and tried to brush it again, but it snagged again. "FUCKING HELL!" she cursed once again. England gently too her hands, and brought them down to her sides. He then gently pulled the brush out, and began to brush out the tangles. Ireland's face began to tint with a little pink, and she mumbled, "Oh, uh, thank ye."

"Don't mention it. Blimey, your hair is in knots."

"I take good care of it, but I haven't washed it in a while since I've had no place or time to since...well, this. T'at and it's hard to brush behind me head with long hair."

"Well then, I guess I owe the frog a one up for having kept my hair short back then." he mused.

"Hm. I probably should cut it if it gets too-"

"Don't cut it short, or super short at least. It looks really nice when it's long and free."

"Long, free, and tangled. That's why I put it up a lot." she replied back.

As he brushed out the final tangle he ran his fingers through her hair, and pressed his nose into it, and breathed in its scent. It smelled of field grass, shampoo, and something that smelled akin to sea salty air.

"It's still beautiful all the same. Shame if it were cut."

Ireland sighed, and leaned her head back, against England's shoulder. She just let her head relax, and she just breathed in and out silently. Smiling, England kissed her forehead, and smoothed up her hair.

Ireland took her hat, and put it back on her head, and asked, "So how much time 'til the meeting?"

England looked at the clock by the bed, "Twenty minutes."

"Oh good. That'll give us enough time to find a vacant closet, or would ye prefer a bed?" she asked, her eyes half lidded with a sneakiness, and a lusty smile.

England jumped back, blushing profusely, "W-WHAT? IRELAND! Are you bloody serious! We just got togeth-"

She laughed feistily, "Ye stupid Brit, I was just kiddin' ye!...sort of." England stared at her wide eyed, and then she cracked another hearty laugh.

"Got ye again Arthur!"

"Jiminy Mal! You bloody git, don't scare me like that!"

"Hehe, c'mon Artie, let's get to te meetin' early and see if Colin and everyone else is t'ere.

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><p>When they reached the meeting room, France, Belgium, and many of the other countries were there. France and America had spotted them and were darting over to England.<p>

"Iggy, you're back!" shouted the American gleefully, and wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad that you didn't get killed by a train, or a bear, or Ireland!"

"Eh, um, yes, so am I. Good to see you Alfred." he said laughing, noticing his Irish girlfriend was not annoyed with America's joke, and biting her lip. She then walked off to find her brother.

"Angleterre! I'm so relieved that you're alright! We were all so worried, especially moi~." said France. The frenchman then asked, "So how did you and Ireland get along, mon ami?"

"Actually, better than expected. As um...a matter of fact...we're uh...dating?"

"Sacre bleu! Are you serious? When did this happen?"

"Last night."

"Onhonhonhonhon...I see. So did _anything_ happen last night between you two Angleterre?"

"No. Nothing happened at all." said England through gritted teeth. America was listening intently.

"But didn't you share a hotel room last night?"

"Yes, but all we did was sleep togeth- oh bollocks...wait, no, no." he stopped and muttered, realizing how he phrased his sentence horridly.

France's eyes shot up, "Oh OUI OUI. I see now, you had a little fun last night!"

"Holy shit! Iggy and Mallory got it on last night!" exclaimed America, his ahoge jumping straight up.

"N-no we did not you darn frog! All we did was share a bed, nothing more!"

France, still smirking, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Mon ami, you do realize that you keep spewing different euphimisms for sex, oui?"

"Argh! Well no! We. Did. Not. Do. THAT!" growled England. "All we did was sleep! As in actually sleep!"

France rolled his eyes, "Don't get so worked up Angleterre, I was only joking."

Ireland then came over to them, a worried look on her face, "France, America, have either of ye seen me brother?"

They both shook their heads. America said, "He's with the search party, and we haven't heard from them yet. Poland's not answering his phone."

Ireland paled a little, "Ye don't think something might have happened, do ye? Ukraine's gettin' worried about her siblings, and Liechtenstein is too about her brother."

"Probably not, we'll just go on with the meeting and wait for them to contact us, or come back."

Ireland sighed, and bit her lip, hoping that her little brother was okay. England gave her a reassuring smile, "With Russia and Switzerland, there's no doubt that they're fine."

"I just don't know..."

The meeting went on, and as usual, America had bullshit ideas to end global warming and end world hunger, and France and England fought. Ireland couldn't focus very well though, as she kept glancing at Northern Ireland's empty seat.

When the meeting which was pretty uneventful had ended, Ireland went outside in front of the hotel, looking up and down the street for any signs of her brother and the search party, but there was none. She had been out there for about twenty minutes, until England had come out to find her.

"Mal, come on back inside. The weather report is warning for a storm."

England then realized he shouldn't have said that when the Irish woman's face blanched, and her eyes began to cloud over. He then took her by the waist, and held her close, "I assure you that they'll be alright, and they'll get back here. I promise."

He then kissed her quivering lips very lightly, until he felt her return the kiss, and held his lips there. They broke apart when they heard France laughing at them from the doors. England glared, "BLOODY FROG!"

Ireland sighed, and said, "I should probably go wash my hair while we're still here. Can ye update me if they call us?"

"Sure, just don't get your bloomers in a knot. They're going to get here soon enough." He felt a raindrop on his nose. "We'd better get back inside."

She sighed, "Yeh." and went back to their hotel room.

England sighed. He honestly was just as worried as her for North and the search party's safety. But he knew that Ireland would need some positive thoughts, and that if he wanted to show that he really cared for her, he'd show that support.

* * *

><p>Belgium recieved a call about 5 PM that day.<p>

"Hello?"

"BELGIUM! GOD DAMNIT, THANK YOU FOR ANSWERING!" cried Switzerland on the other end, and sounded as if he was about to go near insane.

"Vash, is that you? It's pouring out there, oh gosh where are you guys?"

"We're at the French-Belgian border, and we need a bus or something NOW!" he shouted in reply. Belgium wondered why he was screaming. She didn't know that at the moment, the only thing that was keeping Switzerland and the rest of the search party from getting blown away was the phone booth, in which they were all standing in, squished together.

"Where did you get the phone from?"

"Pay phone, but we had to look everywhere for change. In sidewalk cracks, benches, everywhere!"

"And I found more gum, da!" said Russia, who was squished between Poland and Northern Ireland.

"JUST COME GET US PLEASE! WE'RE IN A PHONE BOOTH SO WE DON'T GET BLOWN AWAY AND DIE!" screamed Switzerland, who had by now, officially lost it. At least Belgium didn't remind him that they missed the meeting.

"Oookaaay. I'll try and get someone to come pick you guys up. Anyone else need to say anything?"

North screamed, "BAAA!" when he felt Belarus prod him from behind with a dagger, for standing near Russia.

"Okay. We miss you too North!" said Belgium cheerfully before hanging up. She then called a bus to go to the border office and pick up 'six screaming weirdos' crammed in a phone booth.

Belgium then saw Ireland walking into the foyer, a towel draped around her shoulders, and her hair slightly damp.

"Good news Mallory! Switzerland and the search party called! They're by the border, waiting out the storm in a phone booth. I've sent a bus to go get them, and bring them here. If we're lucky, they'll be here by tomorrow morning."

Ireland gave a sigh of relief, "Did me brother say anything?"

"Baa."

"What?"

"Baa. He said 'Baa'."

"...figures."

England was woken up when he felt the bed shift suddenly. He turned to see Ireland sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the hotel window.

"Something wrong Mal?" he mumbled.

"No, I'm just seeing if they're here yet."

"*yawn* Belgium said probably not until tomorrow morning. Go back to sleep, it's only 1 AM."

She slowly crawled back onto the bed, under the sheets, and yawned. England kissed her forehead, and both soon slipped back into subconsciousness. However a short time later, Ireland woke up, and feeling cold, snuggled into her bedmate, hugging him like a teddy, and once again content, fell asleep.

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><p>About ten AM the next morning, the bus finally came back with the search party. Switzerland stumbled out of the bus, speechless, a mess, one of his shoes missing, and he was about ready to fall over. Russia followed behind, happy as a child, but no doubt dirty and his behind still bandaged. Belarus was a breath behind him, dirty, and insane as ever. Poland was walking out of the bus, complaining about how his outfit was 'totally ruined', while Lithuania, exhaustedly stepped out.<p>

Northern Ireland walked out last. His shepherd's coat was dirty with mud and grime, his shoes caked with dirt, his scruffy red hair a mess, and his face unwashed. But he was alright. As he got out and walked into the hotel, he stopped, because he was soon staring straight at his sister. They were about three yards apart.

For a few moments they just stood and stared at each other, until Northern Ireland finally broke, and ran over to her, and both engaged in a tight hug.

"Oh Colin, I'm so sorry." murmured Mallory as she hugged her little brother tightly, and let a few tears ebb out. Northern Ireland was crying too, but smiling for the first time in days. "Baaaa, I was so scared sissy. I was scared I lost ye."

"I was scared I lost ye too. I won't scare ye again like t'at, I promise. At least ye were brave enough to go out looking for me."

North nuzzled his sister's shoulder, "Ta gra agam duit."

"I love ye too boyo." she muttered back. England smiled, seeing the two siblings together.

Switzerland hobbled over to Ireland with a manic look on his face, "NEVER AGAIN MALLORY."

Ireland sighed.

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><p><strong>TWO WEEKS LATER<strong>

Ireland was back to her daily routine of farming and making house calls under the name of Dr. Quinn. They had left Belgium the day after the search party returned via plane, much to her chagrin. She had a fear of flying, but it actually didn't turn out as bad as she thought, since she was with her brother and England (and the fact that she and England ended up making out in the restroom(but nothing more!)).

She and England kept in touch after that through phone calls, snail mail, and emails. Ireland honestly didn't use her computer much, since she was not one for modern technology (she didn't own a TV).

One day, she was sorting out her medicines, when she had gotten an email from England.

_Hey Mal, just seeing how you're doing!_

She typed back,_ I'm fine, slow day._

Surprisingly, before she could go back to work, she got a reply back within the next minute, _Oh that's good. I was wondering anyway if you were busy tonight._

She typed back, _Not really. Why ask?_

About three minutes later she got an email back, _Want to go out tonight maybe? If you're not busy or anything..._

She smiled, and replied, _Sounds nice. Pick me up at seven._

England's final email read, _Seven it is then. Wear your hair down for me. :) _

Ireland smirked, and fingering a loose strand of her hair realized she'd have to pick out something nice to wear. Perhaps something green.

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><p><strong>Yay, cute endings for all! Well that concludes this little story. Next I have plans for a dark story involving Russia. That or some PruHun drabbles. But not for about two or three weeks. I'm going to be on vacation.<strong>

**Thanks for reading! Review please!**


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